Death by Lethal Injection
by NCCJFAN
Summary: Jordan, Nigel, and Woody track down a serial killer who kills by injecting his victims with a lethal bacterial...how many will die, and will any of the Boston PD or the morgue be among the victims?
1. Court Proceedings

Got this idea while reading one of my science teacher journal magazines...seems like they think a number of the scientists/archaeologists who used to get sick on digs (most specifically the King Tut dig) did so because of the bacteria that would build up in the tombs while stuff decayed. Now most archaeolgists who go on sealed area digs are careful to wear masks. Open air digs are different (I know, I was on one this summer....) Anyway....this got me thinking and below is the result.

Of course, first you must be disclaimed....ah-hem.

**I don't own a thing.**

**Not a character, not Tim Kring.**

**I don't own anything much of worth,**

**Of eartly riches, I am derth.**

**I have no real claim to fame**

**Now please read my story**

**You've been disclaimed.**

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* * *

It was an angry, red spot against her white skin....not much bigger than a dime. There had been a sting of pain, then a chuckle, a kick to the ribs, and then nothing....nothing but an angry, red, whelp on her arm. _What if he doesn't find me?_ She wondered. _What was in the syringe?_ Her vision continued to grow fuzzy as she fumbled for her phone. Pushing the GPS emergency button, she closed her eyes and waited.....and thought about the past few days.

"You may step down, Dr. Cavanaugh," said the judge.

Jordan slipped down from the witness stand and sat down beside Woody in the court room. The lawyers had to give their closing arguments and then the jury would begin deliberations. If all went well, they would render a guilty verdict and one of the worst serial killers in Massachusetts's history would be behind bars for the rest of his life – or face the death penalty.

Woody squeezed Jordan's hand as she sat down from giving her testimony. "Good job," he whispered. She smiled at him. Woody was as relieved as Jordan was that this ordeal was at an end.

The beginning seemed like forever ago. One by one bodies began to turn up across the state, with the victims dying from a mysterious form of bacterial infection. Medical examiners began to culture the bacteria, only to find that there was no type of antibiotic that would kill the strain. They were helpless to find a cure. And what made it even worse, was that the bacteria quickly multiplied once it hit the blood system of a person. Even if a cure had been known, chances were that the victim would be dead before he or she ever reached the hospital. It killed in hours, not days.

The state agencies began to work together to try to get a profile on the perp. Jordan, Nigel, Bug, and Garrett had worked endless days and nights compiling their information with others, floating theories, comparing evidence. It was Jordan and Nigel who broke the case. Jordan discovered that the bacteria was a particular strain found in the Middle East. More specifically, found in ancient ruins and archaeological sites. It had to be reconstituted in a lab. Nigel traced the specific strain to a site along the Jordan River. Jordan then traced it to a particular archaeologist who lived in Washington, DC. From there, the Boston PD, working with police and FBI in DC, traced it to a lab technician that worked for the archaeologist. The lab tech was from Boston. When he left his work in DC, he took the bacteria home with him in sealed vials. He had hoped to be hired by one of the prestigious universities in Massachusetts to further his study on the bacteria. Instead, he was laughed at. So, revenge became his game. He took the vials out of storage and from these vials, he injected 22 people with the bacteria.

Jordan conducted seven of the 22 autopsies at the Boston morgue, more than any other ME in the state. She quickly found herself becoming an expert in exactly what an ancient bacteria could do to a twenty-first century immune system. She had told the jury in great detail what a painful death these victims suffered....and that even if they could have gotten to a hospital or doctor before dying, there would have been nothing anyone could do. What was worse, was if they bacteria had gotten airborne, it could have killed a great many more people, and possibly made even more of the population sick.

This is what made the perpetrator even more frightening. He knew exactly what he was doing. He knew just how to reconstitute the bacteria without harming anyone except his intended victim. It was a controlled killing spree.

But now there was nothing to do but wait. The attorneys would begin their closing arguments after lunch and then the jury would begin deliberations.

**Two Days Later**

"Mr. Foreman, how do you find the defendant?" asked the judge.

"We find the defendant guilty, your honor."

And with that, Judge Turner banged his gavel and reprimanded the defendant into custody until sentencing. The former lab technician began to struggle with the bailiffs. Jordan, Woody, and Nigel had been sitting across the aisle from him. The bailiffs restrained the man before he could get over to Jordan, but everyone in the courtroom heard him as he yelled, "The next one will be you, Dr. Cavanaugh...the next one." Then he was hustled away to the county jail.

"Are you okay?" asked Woody. He had noticed a frightened look pass over Jordan's face.

"Yeah, sure," she said, maintaining a tight grip on the chair in front of her. "Let's get out of here."

Woody protectively placed one hand on the small of her back and helped steer her through the side doors of the courthouse. He knew the front would be a media zoo and he hoped they could get out with minimal problems.

This wasn't going to happen. The media was all over the place. Soon Jordan faced the camera lights and microphones stuck in her face.

"How do you feel, Dr. Cavanaugh? Helping put away one of Boston's worse killers?"

"We heard he threatened you? Are you taking it seriously? What are you going to do?"

Jordan's training had prepared her for many things, but not this. With a muffled, "No comment," she hid her face in Woody's outstretched arm and was hustled away in a police car. Once they had gotten a safe distance away from the courthouse, she turned to Woody. "God, I'm glad that's over."

Woody nodded. He was glad, too. But the threat worried him.

"Wood, you okay?"

Hiding his concern for her, he smiled. "Yeah. I'm glad it's over, too."

Back at the morgue, Garret, the DA, Nigel and the rest of the staff was ecstatic over the verdict and the fact that life could get back to normal. As they rehashed the trial, evidence, and verdict at staff meeting, Jordan put her head down on her arms.

"You okay, Jord?" Garrett asked, concerned over his ME.

"Yeah. I am. Just tired."

"Why don't you cut out early....plan to take a couple of days off....you deserve it."

"I don't know. I may take tomorrow off, since it's Friday. But I'll be back Monday."

"Does this guy's threat worry you?"

Jordan paused for a moment. He would know where she worked, but not where she lived. Mentally, she shook herself. He was in the county jail, under 24-hour surveillance, in solitary lock up. There was no way he could get to her. "No, not really," she replied.

* * *

Letting herself back into her apartment, Jordan relocked her doors, throwing on the deadbolt. She had always been safety conscious, but the trial had made her even more so. Assuring herself that her apartment was secured, she dropped her gym bag on the floor and her keys and purse on the counter.

She had worked out really hard tonight, as Woody had encouraged her to add more weight during her routine. Ruefully, she rubbed her arms and legs. A hot shower and some ibuprofen would help keep the soreness way....or she wouldn't be able to get out of bed tomorrow. Swallowing the pills, she headed for the shower. A few minutes later, a tired and sleepy Jordan climbed into her bed. For once, she was glad tomorrow was Monday. A normal routine would be great for a change. Wearily, she pulled her comforter up over her and wished for a split second Woody was there and not at work. But sleep soon overtook her and she was gone before she had a second thought about the detective.

The sound of breaking glass awakened her sometime later. Frightened, she sat up and reached for the baseball bat she kept beside the bed. "Wh...Who's there?" she asked, gripping the bat tightly and bringing it up along side her.

"An old friend," was all she heard and a cloth clamped down tightly over her mouth and nose. Before Jordan could focus on the face, she was unconscious.

When she came to, she discovered that she was in the back of a van....one of the big vans, not a mini van. And it appeared to be a work van. She was lying on the floor. There weren't any seats except for the driver's. Vainly, she looked around, trying to find something she could identify the van by. Nothing. It was too dark. The van turned a sharp corner. She slid into the side of it. Before she could stop herself, she moaned in pain. Her head was killing her.

"So you're awake, Dr. Cavanaugh? I was hoping you'd stay out the whole trip. But that's okay. We're almost there."

_There where?_ Thought Jordan, still trying to focus. She must have been drugged at her apartment, remembering the last thing she saw – the cloth over her mouth and nose. She struggled to sit up, but found she was bound and gagged. The van came to an abrupt halt. She slid to the back of the van. She heard the man get out and come to the rear of the van, open the doors, and reach for her.

Afraid of what might happen, Jordan began to struggle. The man simply hoisted her up over his shoulder and carried her a short way and dropped her to the earth. He shone a flashlight in Jordan's eyes. She had to squint to see.

"Remember me?"

She did. All too well. It was the lab technician.

"You must be askin' yourself right about now how I escaped," he chuckled manically. "It was easy. The Boston PD's jail cells might be real secure, but they sure aren't too careful when they transfer you from place to place." He bent over, his face inches away from Jordan's. "Now I'm here to make good on a promise, Dr. C. You remember, don't you?" He pulled a hypodermic syringe from his pocket. "Seems like I told you you'd be next. I don't like to break promises. Especially to ladies. My mother always taught me that when you promise a lady something, you need to make sure you keep that promise."

He uncapped the syringe and untied Jordan's arms. She tried to crawl away, only to have him pin her to the earth with his leg. "Now this won't hurt but a minute," as he turned her arm over and plunged the needle into the soft underside of her forearm. "Sorry I don't have any alcohol to swab your arm with, but seein' as you're going to die anyways, that seemed kind of silly." He finished giving her the injection and stuck the empty syringe in her back pocket. Then he dragged her to the top of what appeared to be an embankment. Bending over once again, he whispered in her ear, "And just in case you're wondering, that wasn't the bacteria....." he laughed again and kicked her down the embankment.

Jordan rolled for what seemed like hours. About the time she thought she was going to stop, she would roll some more. Finally, coming to a halt in some scrub brush, she caught her breath. _Not the bacteria? What in the hell could it be?_ She thought, as her head began to grow heavy and her eyes were becoming more and more unfocused. Her hands were still untied. She pulled the gag away from her mouth and began to grope through the pockets of her sleep pants. Hopefully, he didn't discover her phone tucked away in the inside pocket of her sweats. She had begun keeping it there at night during the trial. She would charge the phone during the day, at her desk. _Thank God,_ _there it is_. Trying her best to focus before she passed out, she hit the emergency button on it. _Now if the GPS is working right, maybe someone will find me before I die_. She checked her back pocket before she collapsed. The syringe was still in there.

* * *

Woody tried Jordan's phone number for the third time in an hour. She wasn't answering. That wasn't like her. He had asked to call him when she got home from the gym and now it was three hours later and no phone call. She had always called him when she promised to...and now she wasn't answering. He grew uneasy. _Maybe she's just really tired after that work out. She did add more weights._ Still, he anxious about it. _I'll ride over to Pearle Street, just to see if her SUV is there_, he thought, throwing his car into gear.

Five minutes later, he was there, and there was her car – safe and sound. From what he could tell, all the lights were off in her apartment. _She's sound asleep. Just wait until I see her tomorrow...she won't forget to call me again... _he thought.

At that moment, his Nextel went off.

"Hoyt?" came a voice over the line. It was Eddie Winslow.

"Yeah?"

"What's your 20?"

"Pearle Street – and no, I'm not in Jordan's apartment. She just didn't call me when she got back from the gym and I was worried. So I made sure her car was in the parking lot."

"Well, seems you have good reason to worry. A 911 just came in from her cell phone and her GPS is telling us she's not on Pearle Street. She's at the back side of Latham Park. Think you're okay to drive it?"

Woody already had turned on his siren and pushed the accelerator to the floor.

There were lights, police cars, and ambulances all over the place on the embankment at the park. "She's down there somewhere," Eddie told Woody, briefly filling him in. "And I just found out that the lab tech escaped from jail this evening as they were transferring him from holding to solitary confinement."

Woody cursed under his breath, "And we're just finding out now?" He plunged down the hill, holding his flashlight, searching for Jordan.

"She's over here," yelled an officer. Woody followed the voice and found her.

She was curled up, still fighting unconsciousness. "Jordan," he said, gently running a hand over her forehead. "Can you hear me?"

"Woody?" she opened her eyes, trying to focus. His face swam before her eyes. "Woody?"

He grabbed her hand. "It's me. The paramedics are on their way down. Hang on..." his voice broke. If the perp had injected her with the bacteria....there would be nothing they could do but keep her comfortable until it happened.

"Woody," she was struggling for breath and to remain conscious. "It was him...."

"I know."

She held out her arm. Woody could see the injection site – the angry, red whelp against her white skin. "He got me...but he said it wasn't the bacteria...."

Woody heaved a sigh of relief. Not the bacteria. But damn, that opened another can of worms. "Did he say what it was, Jor?" She was fading out. He shook her. "Jordan! Did he say what it was?"

"My...my...back pocket. My..... back pocket," she got out before unconsciousness took over.

Woody rolled her slightly to the side and felt her back pocket. He pulled the syringe from it and dropped it in an evidence bag. Nigel was getting first swipe at this one. "Hang in there, honey," he said as the paramedics arrived and began to load her on the stretcher. She didn't let go of his hand, clinging to it the entire time they were getting her on the stretcher and up the hill.


	2. Isolation

The hospital corridors were a blur of lights and held the sharp sting of an antiseptic smell to Jordan. She was only vaguely aware of her surroundings....She remembered the ambulance ride and Woody yelling at her to stay conscious...stay with him...she remembered him begging her not to leave him..._Where would I go?_ She had thought. Now she was in a small room that held her bed and several doctors and nurses. There was a large glass window beside the door that she could look out of into the hallway. She saw Garrett and Woody talking to one of the doctors. Her room was a flurry of activity as the injection site was examined, her vitals taken, and more blood drawn than she was aware she even had in her body. A saline drip was started and one of the nurses asked her if she was allergic to any antibiotics. Jordan shook her head no. The nurse hung another bag of medication onto the drip and told Jordan to try to sleep. Exhausted, Jordan willingly laid her head back down on the pillow and shut her eyes.

Woody was filling in the doctor on what had happened. "The lab tech told Jordan that whatever it was in the syringe, it wasn't the bacteria, but she was going to die." He was nearly out of his mind with worry. He didn't know what kind of time frame they were working with. Did Jordan have days or hours? Days or weeks? Was it curable? He ran his hand through his hair. "Damn. Do we have any idea of what was in the syringe?"

"Not yet," said Garrett. Nigel had met them at the hospital and picked up the evidence bag with the syringe in it. "Nigel's running tests even as we speak. You know he's not going to rest until he knows what's in it."

"We're testing her blood...culturing everything to see if it's a bacteria. The perp may have told Jordan that it wasn't the killer bacteria just to throw everyone off. We've got a high-powered antibiotic in her drip right now just as a precaution. We just need to know what we're working against," said Dr. Barker, Jordan's attending physician.

"Can I see her?" asked Woody.

"I'm afraid not. Until we know what she has been contaminated with....until we know if it's contagious, she can't have any visitors. And I'm going to recommend that my staff wear complete containment outfits – full PAPR's – until we do know. Just as a precaution."

Woody and Garrett walked over to the window to look at Jordan. She was asleep now...her breathing, blood pressure – everything being closely monitored. She looked so small in the hospital bed. And so pale. "How's she doing?" asked Garrett.

Dr. Barker looked at her chart. "Better than she was when she was brought in. She's not in shock any longer. Her vitals are not quite as strong as they should be, but they are steady. She's reacting well right now to the antibiotic. It may make her a little sick, but she needs to keep getting it." He shut the chart with a snap. "The best thing you two can do is go home and get some rest. You're not going to do her any good if you're worn out. So leave. Go home. We'll call you if anything changes."

Woody and Garrett glanced at each other and then back at Jordan. Both knew there was no way in hell anyone was going to sleep until they at least knew what the bastard injected her with. And now they were going back to the morgue to see what Nigel had found out.

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Nigel wearily rubbed his eyes and willed them to stay open just a little longer. There were three, large, empty Styrofoam coffee cups beside his computer, silent witnesses to his efforts to stay alert and run the tests on the empty syringe. When he had gotten the panicky call from Garrett about Jordan, he had wondered what his girl had gotten herself into now. Turns out it wasn't Jordan's fault this time at all. Her home and her body had been invaded by this...this...criminal. Nigel carefully loaded the centrifuge and turned it on. He was hoping to extract enough fluid from the vial to run tests on. It didn't look promising. He heard the elevator doors open and the rapid footsteps coming down the hall. He knew who it was before they even got in the door way. "How's she doing?" he asked, without even looking up.

"She's okay right now," replied Woody. "She's holding her own.." The detective's voice cracked and he quickly turned his back to Garrett and Nigel. Nigel glanced at Woody and then back at Garrett. Garrett backed off a little to give Woody time to pull himself together.

"Her vitals are steady, but weak," Garrett told Nigel. "She's out of shock. They're treating her with an antibiotic drip as a precaution. What do you have so far?"

"So far? Nothing. There wasn't enough fluid left in the syringe to run any tests on. I have it in the centrifuge hoping to pull enough out for some kind of extraction." He motioned towards the whirring machine. "I should know something in a few minutes."

Woody turned back around. His eyes were red and his face was still wet. "What will you do then?"

"If the doctor's running bacterial cultures, then I'm going to test for toxins and other things...it could be anything."

"How soon will you know?" Woody asked quietly.

Nigel regarded the young man. When he first met Woody, he had regarded the young man as a rival for Jordan's affections. Turns out he had been right. But Jordan had fallen for Woody, whether she would admit it or not. And Nigel knew it – he had watched the way her eyes lit up when he came bounding in the office, how quick she was to show up on one of his cases, and the way she allowed his hand to linger at her waist or on her arm. And Woody, it was well known, returned the affection. And while Jordan adored Nigel, he knew she didn't return his affection the same way.

Nigel didn't particularly like this, but he wanted Jordan to be happy. "I'm working as quickly as I can, Woody, but some of these tests are going to take time. If necessary, I'll e-mail the CDC in Atlanta my findings and see what they can come up with."

Woody sighed. Everyone was doing all they could do. Including Jordan. She was fighting for her life, too.

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"How's she doing?" Woody asked the nurse at Jordan's station at the hospital.

"Are you her husband?"

"No, I'm the detective on her case," Woody fibbed, while flashing his badge. Truth was, because of his closeness to Jordan, he had been taken off the case. Eddie Winslow was now the lead detective, but was keeping Woody in the loop.

"Let me check." The nurse walked over to Jordan's room and pulled the file from the holder on the door. "Her vitals are still weak," she glanced at the detective. His face wasn't telling her anything. "She's had some instability a couple of times in the last 12 hours, but we've managed to get her back on track. She's still on the antibiotic drip."

"Is it helping?"

"Not that we can tell. The doctor will be by to check her in a few minutes, if you'd like to wait."

Woody sat down on the bench across from Jordan's door. It wasn't long before Dr. Barker's lanky frame came striding down the hall. "Detective," Dr. Barker said, greeting Woody.

"How...how's she doing?" Woody asked, swallowing hard.

"I'll know more in a minute. I'm suiting up and going in to examine her." Dr. Barker disappeared into a small side room and reappeared a few minutes later with full PAPR on – from the contained breathing apparatus to the head-to-toe enclosed suit. Woody winced. Jordan couldn't be that sick, that contagious, could she? Seeing the doctor in such an outfit just brought home once again the fact that no one knew what they were fighting against. He watched as the doctor took Jordan's vitals and examined her. She stayed unconscious the entire time.

Emerging from Jordan's room, Dr. Barker pulled off mask and said, "I'll be out in a minute...let me decontaminate." Woody nodded, walking over to the window and looking at Jordan. He didn't hear Garrett and Rene Walcott come up behind him. "How's she doing?" Garrett asked.

"The doctor will be out in a minute. We'll know more then," said Woody, softly, never taking his eyes off her sleeping figure. Garrett glanced at Woody. The detective looked like hell. Of course, they all did. No one had slept in well over 24-hours. "You need to get some rest, Woody," he remarked.

Woody shook his head no. "Not until I know something....anything."

Just then Dr. Barker re-emerged from the side room. Motioning Woody, Rene, and Garrett over to him, he sat down on one of the benches in the hall way. "Okay, let me explain where we are with this. Her vitals are slipping. Her breathing is getting shallow and weaker, and if it gets much worse, I'm going to recommend putting a breathing tube in. Her blood pressure is weaker, but steady. I don't have a definitive word on the cultures yet, but so far, everything has come back negative. So if it is a bacteria, we don't know what kind it is yet. I'll give it about six more hours to culture, then I'd predict we're not working with a bacteria at all, but something potentially even deadlier."

"How much time do we have, doc?" asked Woody, not really wanting to hear the answer, but nevertheless, needing to know.

"I'm not sure. Right now, we're just treating symptoms and keeping her comfortable. When I know what we're working against, I can be more aggressive."

Woody nodded and walked back over to the window of Jordan's room. Leaning his forehead against the window, he silently prayed that they would be allowed more time together...more time to explore what had begun as a casual friendship and was developing into something much closer, much warmer....In many ways, he felt like he had just found the part of himself that was missing. He had found it the minute he had looked into her whiskey-colored eyes. And they were just as intoxicating as good whiskey, too. From the instant their eyes had met, he knew...he just knew _she was the one_. Cal, his brother, had laughed at him. "No such thing as love at first sight, Wood," he had off-handedly commented to Woody the last time he came home from Boston.

But he knew different. He may have come to Boston to further his career, but she was the reason he stayed. And now, unless a miracle happened, she may never know exactly how he felt...how much he felt....how deeply he felt. Turning to Rene, who had walked up beside him, he asked, "Do you have a lipstick?"

Quizzically, she looked at him, but seeing how exhausted he was, she asked no questions. She simply reached inside her handbag and handed him one.

"Thanks," he said. "I'll probably owe you another one."

Rene walked back over to Garrett. "What is he doing?" she asked.

Garrett looked at the window to Jordan's room. "I think he's leaving her a message."

On the window, with the lipstick, written backwards so Jordan could read it from inside her room when she came to, Woody wrote, "Hang it in there. I love you. Woody."


	3. Waking Up

Jordan felt like she was drowning. It was hard to breathe. She tried to moan, but couldn't muster the strength to do that. _What is happening to me?_ She wondered, trying to turn her head. There was an alarm going off somewhere, but she couldn't make out exactly where. Suddenly her room was filled with doctors and nurses. Dr. Barker quickly examined her and nodded to one of his assistants. An oxygen mask was clamped down on her mouth and nose. "Jordan," Dr. Barker said to her, sharply, to get her attention. She opened her eyes and tried to focus on him.

"Jordan," he continued, "Your breathing is becoming erratic. We're going to have to put a breathing tube down your throat."

She shook her head no. If she had the tube in her, she couldn't talk.

"Yes, Jordan. Just for the time being. As soon as we know what we're dealing with, we can treat you and take it out."

Jordan reached up and pulled the mask off. "You still..don't know?"

Dr. Barker shook his head. "I'm sorry. We're doing all we can. So is Dr. Townsend. You've got a lot of people pulling for you right now. You need to work with us."

Jordan managed to get out an "Okay," before the nurse slammed the oxygen mask back on her face. She was vaguely aware of Dr. Barker getting the tube ready. She knew she'd be immobilized as long as the tube was in her, so she wouldn't pull it out in her sleep. _I wonder if Woody is here_ was her last coherent thought as she turned toward the window. Before she went under she read the message and smiled. _I love you, too._

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"We've taken the plaster casts we've made from the van's tire tracks and are trying to trace them. That's about all we have to go on now, besides the fact that we've put out an APB on him and his face is plastered all over the TV. That's about all we can do right now," Eddie told Woody, as the two strode down the hall of the morgue, making their way to Nigel's office. "If he's out there, someone will turn him in."

"The question is, will he be ratted out in time enough to help Jordan?"

Eddie sighed. He felt like hell and knew Woody did, too. As a matter of fact, they all did -- no one had slept since she was found in Latham Park. He was pulling all the strings he could to bring the technician in. It just wasn't happening fast enough. "There's a reward being offered. Macy's talking about matching it. If he does that, that's going to bring the pot to $100,000. That should bring someone out of the woodwork."

"Yeah, but..." The beeping of a cell phone interrupted their conversation, as Woody flipped his phone open.

"Detective Hoyt, please," came a voice over Woody's cell phone. It was Dr. Barker.

"Speaking."

"Woody, this is Dr. Barker. I just wanted to let you know we've had to put a breathing tube in Jordan."

"When..."

"Just a little while ago. The good news is she's responding well. Her breathing has stabilized again. The bad news is that all the cultures we've ran have come back negative for bacteria. We're not looking at anything that can be treated with antibiotics, my friend. It's something else. Has Dr. Townsend come up with anything?"

"No.. not, not yet." Woody swallowed hard. "Do you know anything at all.....time?"

"No, Woody, I'm sorry. Until we know what she was injected with, I can't tell you anything else, other than she's being closely monitored. You may want to come see her as soon as you can."

"Can I go into see her?"

"Yeah, and since it's not bacterial, you don't have to wear the suit."

Woody flipped his phone shut. He turned to Eddie. "That was Jordan's doctor. They've had to put a breathing tube in her." Eddie watched his friend's face crumple. "It's not good. I need to go see her."

"Then go. I'll keep you up on everything."

"Not until I talk with Nigel."

They had reached Nigel's office. He was in there, just as bleary-eyed and unshaven as Woody and Eddie and was still working with the syringe. "Dr. Barker just called, Nige. It wasn't a bacteria that Jordan was injected with," Woody said.

Nigel looked up from the tests he was running. "I had pretty much just come to that conclusion. From the tests I've been running, it appears to be a toxin."

"Toxin? Do we know what kind?" Eddie asked.

"Riacin is the first one that comes to mind," said Nigel, as he pushed a button and displayed the results on a screen in front of the detectives. "But there's several kinds.I'm getting the doctor on the phone now. At least they'll be able to treat her symptoms until we can find out exactly what kind."

"Riacin ... that's from castor beans, right?" asked Woody.

"Yeah. Pretty common, but pretty deadly, depending on the concentration," Nigel said, picking up the phone and dialing the hospital. "If it's a weak concentration, she'll just be sick for a while. If it's a higher concentration, it can affect her central nervous system." He didn't need to go on. Both detectives knew what that meant. It could begin to shut down her other organs.

"I'm heading to the hospital," said Woody, pushing past Eddie and heading towards the door."

"Hey, Hoyt," called out Eddie. "Do me a favor?"

"What?"

"Tell Jordan I said I'm working as hard as I can for her and that she needs to not worry and just get better."

Woody nodded.

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Woody met Dr. Barker in front of Jordan's room. "How's she doing?" he asked.

"Since Dr. Townsend called, we've began to aggressively treat the symptoms. But you have to know that even if we've found out in time, the toxin can still be deadly. And if she makes it, it may be along recovery. A lot of it will depend on Jordan. But at least we no longer have to consider her contagious...you won't have to wear a suit."

"I wonder why he injected her with a toxin instead of the bacteria?" Woody wondered.

"My guess? My guess is that he wanted her to suffer longer and live with the possible consequences and handicaps she could be left withâ€.she would have a life sentence or death, just like he would." 

"So can I go in?"

"Yeah, but remember, she can't talk. The breathing tube is in her. We've sedated her, so she won't fight the tube, so she kind of comes and goes as far as consciousness is concerned. If she does wake up, you'll have to do all the talking, and just ask her yes or no questions ... she will be able to nod or shake her head no."

Jordan's room was a huge mangle of machines and tubes. Somewhere in the middle of all the mass of medical equipment was Jordan. _She still looks so small in that bed,_ thought Woody, pulling a chair up beside her and taking her hand. _So helpless _He smiled grimly to himself. One thing Jordan would not like to be called was helpless. But she was. Even a machine was breathing for her. The hiss and pull of the pump echoed rhythmically through the room. Her eyes were closed, her hair spread out on the pillow. Even in her sleep, he had never seen her so still and quiet. "Hey, honey," he said. "It's me" he stroked her hair with his other hand. "I've got good news. Nigel discovered what was in that syringe. It was a toxin, something from riacin. He's called Dr. Barker and now they sort of know how to begin to treat you. We've still got to find him to discover how strong the stuff was, but it's a start, you know?"

He began to softly rub her arm. "Maybe, if they can get the side effects of the mess under control, they can pull this tube out of your throat and you can talk again." He'd give anything to hear her voice again – the sarcastic remarks, the jokes,.the discussions they had about cases. Her softly whispering to him as they made love .. the way she'd breathe out his name .. only she could say it that certain way that sounded so intimate .. loving. He kissed her hand. "Jo, I need to go now. I don't want to, but I need to try to go back and get some sleep so I can help Eddie, somehow, to catch this guy. Of course, they've taken me off the case officially, it's too close. But unofficially, I'm still working on it. Even Walcott said it was okay, and you know how she is." If Jordan could hear him, he knew she would laugh at that. There was no love lost between her and the DA. "I'm going back and lay down on my couch in the office. Home just seems too far away.I'll be back tomorrow, okay?" He stood, bent down, and gently kissed her forehead. Her eyes fluttered open for an instant.

"Hey, babe," he said softly, looking into her face."

Jordan struggled for a minute, then remembered the tube. She tightened her fingers around Woody's hand. "Shh" he said. "Don't try to talk." He felt her fingers squeeze his. "Nige found out what was in the syringe...the doctor can start treating you now." He saw her nod and her eyes shut, but she didn't release her hold on his hand for some minutes later. Woody stood there and simply stroked her hair until she slipped back into unconsciousness.

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Three days later, Woody strode into Eddie's office. "I'm not here, officially anyway, to ask about Jordan's case, .but if you just happen to let something slip, I won't tell a soul that you did."

Eddie looked up at his partner and grinned. "We've caught a couple of sightings of him in Maine. We're working to verify that and move on him before he tries to slip across the border. His family used to have a hunting cabin up that way, so he's familiar with the territory. The Maine highway patrol is working with us."

Woody nodded. "Thanks .. at least something is happening there. Chief still has me pushing paperwork around for the next several weeks"

"You wouldn't be able to concentrate on much else anyway .. how's Jordan?"

"Better, but still struggling."

"Still on the respirator?"

"Yeah, but breathing more on her on. I think they're taking it out soon."

"That's good. Then she'll be bugging you about the case."

"Nah. I'm giving her _your_ phone number," Woody replied as he exited their office and made his way to the elevators. He was going back to see Jordan. Eddie grinned again. At least she was getting better and Woody was getting some rest. And he'd be damned if he let up on himself until the lab technician was caught. Nothing was back to normal yet, but it was getting better.

Woody arrived at the hospital a few minutes later. He wasn't surprised to meet Garrett coming out of her room. "Is she still better?" he asked.

"Better is a relative term with these sort of things, Woody. You know that she has a long battle ahead. We don't know yet what the riacin has done to her system. Time will tell. And until they know exactly what the concentration was, they can't even give her an antidote. But on some levels she is definitely better."

"Good .. can I go in?"

"Yeah. I think she wants to talk to you."

Woody's eyes lit up. "Her tube?"

"They took it out early this morning. She's been breathing on her own just fine since about 5 a.m."

Woody pushed open the door and went in. Her eyes were closed, but it was so good to see her without the offending tube pushed down her throat. Her lips were chapped from it, but she looked wonderful. He couldn't help himself. He leaned over and kissed her softly, trying not to wake her, but needing to assure her that she was there ... back with him ... somewhat normal again.

She opened her eyes and stared into his blue ones for a minute. How long had it been since she had seen his eyes? She groped for his hand and found it. "Hi," she said hoarsely. The tube made her sound like she had laryngitis. Woody had to lean close to hear her. "Got your message," meaning the lipstick note on the window.

Woody smiled. "Yeah. I think the nurses left it up so long just to humor me. I threatened to re-write it if they had it washed off."

Jordan attempted a grin. She could only imagine how insistant he would have been. He could be as stubborn as she was at times. She tightened her grip on his hand and weakly tugged him to the bed to make him sit down with her. Gingerly, so not as to disturb the multitude of wires and tubes, he sat down on edge of the bed and faced her, brushing a stray curl off her forehead. "How are you feeling?"

"Awful ... worse than any hangover I've ever had," she winced. "My throat ... sore."

"It's from the tube. Don't try to talk ... just let me ask some questions and you nod."

"Does your head hurt?" She nodded yes. "Arms?" She shook her head no. "Legs?" Another nod yes. "Back?" Yet another nod yes, "But I think it's from being in the bed so long," she whispered.

"Maybe they'll let you sit up some soon .. or let me give you a back rub" Woody said, trying to give her his best wolfish grin." His reward was a smile and a big nod yes. He chuckled, but he was worried. Her legs could be hurting her from the back pain she had ... or maybe not. The riacin could have affected those nerves. "It will all be better soon." She was getting tired. He could see it in her eyes, but she wasn't relinquishing her hold on his hand. "You need to rest, Jo."

She shook her head no. "Fine ... I'm fine." She tugged him closer to her.

Woody slid up as close to her as he could amid all the tubes. "Yeah, you're fine all right. Never looked better." She grinned weakly at him. He was partially teasing her, but he was partially serious, too. To him, she hadn't looked finer in a long time. Just to see her without the breathing tube, her eyes open -- she looked damn fine to him.

"Stay ... stay with me?" she asked.

"Of course. I'll stay until you fall back to sleep."

"Been sleeping too long," her voice cracked.

"Don't talk. Just rest."

"Bossy."

"Well, at least you know who's in charge," he joked, rubbing her hand with his until she shut her eyes and her breathing told him she was asleep. He stayed just a few minutes longer, taking in the sight of her. He didn't know what the toxin would do to her, but he was glad she was at least marginally better. They would deal with whatever else came there way as it happened. Bending over, he gave her one last gentle kiss and left the room.


	4. Going home

The days brought some slow improvement to Jordan, but it seemed that for every step forward her case took, there were two steps back. The area where the lab technician was spotted was heavily wooded and mountainous – he could hide out for days or weeks without being caught by the Maine State Police. Because the doctors were still not sure exactly what strain or concentration the riacin was, treating Jordan was sort of a hit and miss situation. Some days she would be better, and other days the pain was excruciating for her. She never complained, but Woody, Garrett, and the others hated watching her struggle. The nerve damage was there....in her legs. Walking, at best, was a tricky situation. At the worst, the pain shooting through her legs was unbearable. She didn't even want the bed sheets touching them. Still, she continued to work with the physical therapist, hoping that the nerves would somehow reconstruct themselves and she could get back to some kind of normal situation.

After several days of small, incremental improvement Dr. Barker asked her how she would feel about leaving the hospital and going home.

"Home?" She barely dared to breathe out the word. She had been in the hospital for six weeks. Six long weeks. Woody had been great. So had Garrett. But home...that would be wonderful.

"Do you have someone that could stay with you? At least check in during the day and stay with you at night?"

"I'll see what I can do."

"If you can work that detail out, there's no reason you can't go home... as long as you come back for your physical therapy."

"What about work?"

Dr. Barker chuckled. "We'll re-evaluate that in a week or so."

Jordan nodded and picked up the phone. Automatically, she dialed Woody.

"Hoyt," she heard his voice say.

"Hi – it's me..it's Jordan."

Woody, sitting at his desk, shuffling through paperwork, automatically perked up. Propping the phone between his shoulder and his ear, he continued to look busy as he continued the conversation. "I know it's you...how are you doing?"

"Great...really great. Dr. Barker just told me I could go home."

"Home? Are you serious?"

"Yeah, but it has to be on one condition. I have to have someone check on me during the day and stay with me at night."

Woody was silent for a moment. "So..."

"Um....so how do you feel spending the night with me for the next several weeks?"

"Jordan Cavanaugh. Are you asking me to move in with you?" Woody teased.

She felt her cheeks redden. "It would just be for a little while...if it's not too inconvenient."

"Let's see....the woman of my dreams....just uttered the line I've been wanting to hear for the last six months....how inconvenient could that be?"

"Yeah. The woman of your dreams has practically no feeling in her legs and needs help getting up and getting to the potty at night. That sounds really convenient."

"Well...I think it's sweet. You're depending on me...makes me feel...needed."

"Woody..." Jordan's voice held a warning tone.

"Just kidding, sweetheart. You know I will. But on one condition. We don't take you back to your apartment. The lab technician knows where you live. He may come back. I suggest either my apartment or Max's house, your choice."

Jordan knew Woody's studio apartment would be even more cramped than her own tiny two room one. "Dad's would have more room...we'd be more comfortable there."

"Are you good with that?" Woody knew she seldom went back there since Max left.

"Yeah....yeah. I'm okay. The utilities are still on. And Dad had that whirlpool bath put in a couple of years ago. That may help my legs."

"Then it's a done deal. Tell the doctor you've got your bases covered. I'll go by my place tonight and get my stuff. When you leave the hospital, we'll swing by yours to get your stuff."

"Okay...and Woody?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

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"Eddie?" Woody poked his head in his partner's office.

"What's up, Hoyt?"

"I was wondering if I could take a longer lunch hour today? The doctor's letting Jordan go home and I need to go get her."

"Really? She's going home?"

"Yeah...she has to have someone check in on her during the day and stay with her at night, but she's out of the hospital."

"I know she's glad," Eddie said, chuckling. He knew how antsy Jordan could become in one place. "So, you're staying with her at night?"

Woody nodded, feeling a slight blush rising in his cheeks.

"You lucky dog you. Take the afternoon if you need it," Eddie replied.

Woody grinned and headed to the hospital. He had already retrieved a key to Max's house from Jordan and had taken his things over there last night. He had deliberately went ahead and set his things in Jordan's room. Even if her legs got to feeling fine, he didn't want her alone at night at all...not until that guy was caught and locked up for good. She could fuss all she may want, but he was going to be in her bed with her at night.

Jordan was ready and waiting for him when he got there. She had already filled out the paperwork and said her goodbyes to the nurses and Dr. Barker. She was sitting on the side of her bed when he arrived. "Ready to go?" he asked.

She smiled at him and pointed to the wheelchair. "They won't let me try to walk out of here...so I guess you get to push me out."

"Hmm.....so I get to start pushing you around and there's nothing you can do about it?" he joked. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Don't you even start with me Woodrow Hoyt."

He winced at the use of his given name. "Okay, truce. Just don't call me Woodrow, okay?" He carefully helped her out of the bed and into the wheel chair and pushed her down the hall to his car. A nurse helped him get her in the seat and buckled in. First they ran by her apartment so she could pick up her things. Then, a few minutes later, they were at her father's house. Woody took her arm and helped her up the walk and the steps. "Feeling okay?" he asked as he opened the front door.

"Yeah....just give me a minute." Jordan had only been back to Max's house twice since he had left Boston. Once to clean out the refrigerator and empty the garbage and then again to allow an alarm company to install a burglar alarm since the house would be empty most of the time. The house held too many memories for her...not all of them good. In addition to her health, Woody had worried about what the emotional turmoil coming back to the house may cause. But it seemed to him he had little choice. Her apartment was out of the question and his was too small. He watched her closely as she made her way through the entrance into the living room and onto the couch. When she was settled in, he went and retrieved her bag and things from the car and locked the door. He was still a little paranoid about the lab technician coming back to hurt her again.

"Do you have to go back to work?" Jordan asked as they took her things upstairs. So far her legs weren't hurting her too badly and she was maneuvering around well. Woody helped her into her room.

"No. Look, I put my things in here...I'm just not comfortable with you sleeping alone at night until this guy is caught...."

"It's okay, Woody. I'd...I'd rather be with you at night." No matter what happened to her, Jordan felt safer when she was with Woody. She had felt this way ever since she had known him and they started working together. It hadn't changed. Besides, they slept together before, even if it hadn't been on an ongoing basis. Just as long as he knew that right now...she couldn't...everything hurt too much...her back, her legs. "I just..." she stopped, feeling the blush rise to her cheeks.

Woody came over and pulled her into his arms. Resting his cheek on the top of her head, he said "I know, sweetie...I know. It's okay."

"My legs and back really hurt. Dr. Barker said it will probably get better, but no one knows when. Not until we can tell what concentration and type the riacin was. He's treating me with a nerve stimulate...to try to get the sheaths to grow back over the nerve endings. If that happens, I'll be fine. Just no one is quite sure how long it's going to take...I'm sorry."

Woody hugged her closer. The technician had done more than just taken away her mobility and her peace of mind. He had taken away her femininity....her womanhood. And as much as Jordan hadn't spoken her fears, he knew they were there...what they were. "Shhh....don't worry about it now. Everything will be fine...just wait and see."

Jordan shook her head. "I just wish I knew when."

Woody rubbed her back. "Hey, let's get something to eat...I'm starved. What about you?"

"Chinese?"

"Sounds good. Want to order it in or go out?"

"Delivery sounds good...maybe we can catch a pay-per-view?"

"It's a plan. You find the movie, I'll order the food. Sesame chicken?"

"Yeah...Lo Mein, too."

Woody placed the order and before long they were eating. "So, Woody...tell me...since you haven't breathed a word about it since I've been in the hospital...any word on the perp that did this to me?"

"You know I'm not on the case, Jo."

"Well, not officially... unofficially?"

"Eddie Winslow is on the case. He told me they've got him spotted in Maine."

"Maine?"

"Yeah...family there. They have a hunting cabin...it's just really mountainous and wooded..."

"Eric Rudolph all over again."

Woody nodded. Jordan sighed. "I'm going to change before the movie." She went upstairs and put on her girl boxers and a tank top. Wrapping her bathrobe around her, she was making her way downstairs when her legs gave out. Woody heard her as she hit the floor.

"Jordan!"

"I'm fine...fine...just a little pain."

Woody brushed her hair back from her eyes. He had never heard her complain..not once. Not about anything. Swallowing hard, he asked "Do you need to go back to the hospital? Call the doctor?"

"No...no. Just need to take my meds and the pain killer."

Woody nodded. He helped her up and half walked, half carried her to the couch. He got her meds and gave them to her with a glass of water. After she swallowed them, he pulled her against him and lay down with her on the couch. They watched the movie, but Jordan didn't get more than half way through it when the pain medication overcame her and she dozed off. Woody gazed at her. He hated seeing her like this. Gently, he picked her up and carried her upstairs to bed. Pulling his own clothes off and putting on some sweatpants, he slid in the bed next to her, pulling her close. Kissing her cheek softly, he settled down to sleep himself, vowing tomorrow night he was going to fill Max's hot tub and make her get in that. Maybe that would help get rid of some of her pain.


	5. Therapy

The days fell into a pattern. Jordan would get up, do the exercises her physical therapist told her to do for her legs, shower, eat breakfast, and try to make it through the day without giving into the pain that continued to plague her legs and hamper her mobility. Woody, Garret, Nigel, Lily, or someone from the morgue would drop by about lunch time to check on her. The evenings Woody didn't have to work, he would put her in the whirlpool bath Max had installed a few years earlier when he converted the screened in back porch into a sunroom.

While Jordan was grateful for being at home, away from the hospital, she was frustrated with her legs. Some days, her lack of mobility kept her pinned to the couch. On these days, someone stayed with her constantly, making sure she could get to the bathroom, get something to eat, that she didn't fall. Lily was often the one chosen for this duty. Her patience made her the prime candidate. Jordan began to have a new appreciation for her friend. She even let Lily teach her how to knit, in order to have something constructive to do to pass the time away.

On better days, she sometimes could talk Nigel or Garrett into taking her back with them to the morgue. She still wasn't cleared to do an autopsy, but she did finally get caught up on her back log of paperwork. When that was done, Nigel began to teach her more about ballistics and computerized trace programs. Woody wasn't crazy about her coming back into the morgue, but he understood. Staying in the house for days wore her emotional state to a frazzle. Even though at times she was physically able, Jordan was hesitant about going out. For the first time in her life, she didn't feel safe. She didn't know where the lab technician was...if he could still get to her. So her home or the morgue or the hospital seemed the safest.

The hospital. Jordan was still in and out of there so much she told Dr. Barker's staff that she was going to apply for her own parking slot. Twice Woody had to rush her back to the emergency room because the pain in her legs became so excruciating she couldn't stand it. They admitted her into the emergency room and put her on an IV drip of pain medication. Then she was in and out of there four times a week for physical therapy. While Jordan never complained, not once, about her situation or condition, she was growing alarmed at the lack of feeling in her legs. She was on four types of medication to combat the side effects of the riacin. These often left her nauseous, suffering from either fever or chills, or exhausted. Dr. Barker told her not to worry, as soon as the sheaths grew back over her nerve endings, the pain would stop and the feeling would come back in her lower extremities. But his reassurances were doing little to combat her worse fear – that the feeling would never return to her legs and she would be left helpless for the rest of her life. Confined, at best, to a walker or cane, and at worse, to a wheelchair. So she doggedly worked with her therapist, religiously took her medication, and began to pray to a God she thought had abandoned her that she might be normal again for herself and for Woody.

Now that was another concern. Woody. She watched him day by day grow more aggravated that the Boston PD and the Maine State Police had not tracked down her assailant. He knew that Jordan could not accurately be treated medically for the riacin until the doctor knew what concentration she had been injected with. And only the lab technician knew for sure how much she had been given... or if it was riacin at all. Right now, Dr. Barker was shooting in the dark...not being totally sure if what he was giving Jordan was the correct amount or even the right antidote. The worry lines grew increasingly predominate between his eyes and his shoulders often sagged beneath the weight of worry and concern he was carrying. Jordan knew he wasn't eating right and wasn't getting enough rest. She was beginning to feel guilty about asking him to stay with her. Quietly, she began to inquire with Dr. Barker about assisted living facilities or the possibility of keeping a nurse with her at night.

She didn't tell Woody about her concerns....what she was feeling, knowing how much pressure he was under to help deal with this case as well as solve the other case load he was carrying. She kept it inside her until one Saturday morning. She woke up to find, as usual, Woody was holding her close, her back to his chest, his arm snuggly wrapped around her waist. She turned slightly in his arms to look at him as he slept. Even at rest, his face carried a worried tone...he looked tired. Jordan wished there was someway she could ease his burden, make it lighter. It had been days, maybe even weeks, since she had heard him laugh...or seen him smile...a real, full, Woody smile...dimples and all. Maybe she could do her exercises this morning by herself...let him sleep in.

Quietly, she eased from his arms. He didn't wake up. She softly walked to the bathroom and changed into her workout shorts and a t-shirt. Pulling her hair back in a ponytail, she went into her father's room, shut the door, and flipped on the treadmill. Starting slowly and gradually increasing the speed, she was doing okay. _Finally,_ she thought, _I can do it by myself..._

Woody had heard her get up, and had watched her through half-closed eyes make her way to Max's room. He had just as quietly gotten up behind her and walked to the bedroom, pushed open the door a couple of inches, and watched her from the doorway. She had no idea he was observing her, as her back was to the door and she had her headphones on. He stood behind her and watched her as she walked her mile on the treadmill at a quick pace. Suddenly her left leg began to drag a bit and the next thing she knew she was being thrown backwards off the exercise machine into Woody's arms.

Jordan took a second to catch her breath, then turned to Woody. "Thanks."

He smiled at her. "You're welcome...you were doing pretty good...what happened?"

"Damn leg...didn't want to move again."

"At least it looks like it's getting better, Jo."

She nodded, still in his arms, "Did I wake you up? I wanted you to sleep in this morning."

"Nah. I was awake when you got up. Just enjoying the morning." He pushed a strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail behind her ears. "Wanna get a shower?"

Jordan swallowed hard. Other than a passionate kiss or two since the accident, Woody hadn't touched her, realizing that the pain she was dealing with made it impossible for her to be intimate with him. She had missed him, more than he even knew. Pushing any hesitation aside, she grinned at him and nodded. "That would be nice."

He helped her to her feet. "Yeah, it would. It's been a while since we've had any time together, you know?"

A few minutes later Jordan found herself in the shower, wrapped once again in Woody's arms. It _was_ nice...just the two of them, the warm water sluicing off their bodies. Woody gently kissed her, gradually deepening the kiss as he felt her respond. "I've missed you," Jordan whispered.

"I know...I've missed you, too."

"When will this all be over, Wood? Will we ever get back to normal?"

Woody sighed. "Soon...the Maine State Police are working hard. There's just a lot of ground to cover in those backwoods....he wasn't at the cabin. He could be anywhere. They catch signs of him here....then there....They're following him as closely and quickly as they can." He ran his fingers through her hair...now a slick, dark curtain falling down her back. "Turn around and I'll wash your back and hair."

Jordan obediently turned her back to him, grateful for just a moment that he couldn't see the frustration on her face...or the tears in her eyes. She felt guilty...guilty for putting him in this position, of having to take care of her. Guilty for the burden he was bearing about this case. Drawing in a deep breath, she said. "Woody...I know you've been here with me for a while now...and I know I'm really not getting a whole lot better. The doctor doesn't know when I'll be able to go back to work...or live fully back on my own. This is really not fair to you...to put your whole life on hold waiting for me to get better when I may never do that...and may even get worse. It's not right to ask you to stay with me...So I was thinking...maybe I should look into moving into the hospital's assisted living quarters for a while...at least until you and Eddie catch this guy and Dr. Barker can really figure out how to treat me."

"No," Woody responded quietly, but with force.

Jordan turned back to him. "But Wood..."

"I said no." He washed the shampoo out of her hair and worked in the conditioner. "And I mean no. I will take care of you and further more, I _want_ to take care of you." He rinsed out the conditioner, turned off the water and helped her out of the tub. Wrapping a towel around her and one around herself, he walked her out of the bathroom and into the bedroom and sat her on the bed. "Jordan, I love you. I couldn't rest at night knowing you were there...and I would be here. I would worry about your safety....and if they were really taking care of you. Wondering if you were lonely...Why did you even mention this?"

"I just don't want to burden you, Woody." She reached out her hand to him and pulled him down on the bed beside her. "I can see how hard you're working, and how this case is eating at you. I just thought that if I did go there, it would help you out...make your load easer." She gently trailed a finger down the side of his face. "It worries me....how tired you look....You're not sleeping or eating right."

He caught her hand and kissed each finger, and then pulled her to him and kissed her deeply again. "Jordan Marie Cavanaugh, I love you. And I also know you...and I know that if it was me in your position...you'd be doing the same thing for me. So just settle down. We'll catch this guy. And don't worry about me so much."

Jordan chuckled at him, and ran her fingers through his hair, which was sticking out in a million different directions after the shower. "You're right...I'd do the same for you."

"And why is that?"

"Because...I love you."

Woody grinned against her lips. "I know...can't live without me, can you?"

Jordan shook her head. Although they hadn't been "dating" long...or together even for a shorter amount of time, her best friend had come to mean more than anything to her. She loved Woody in a way that she had thought she would find impossible to love anyone. He was her best friend...her soul mate...her lover...so many things and more. The wall was down...he had her heart in the palm of his hand. She gently ran her fingers down the side of his neck and down his chest. "I just wish we could...."

He caught her hands. "I know, sweetheart. I do, too. Soon...we will be able to soon."


	6. Back in Massachusetts

Woody caught up with Eddie the next day at the precinct. "Any news on this guy?" he asked. "Do we know if he's even still in Maine?"

"To be honest, Hoyt, we're not sure. The Maine police are working hard...but even they don't know. I'm getting a call from the chief there about one this afternoon. Wanna be in the office when I take it...unofficially, or course. Pretend you have to drop off some files or something."

Woody nodded. He'd be there. Meanwhile, he was on his way to see Nigel to ask about any GPS tracing on the guy.

"Morning Nige...any news?"

"Morning Woodrow...No. Unfortunately not. Either he is not using his cell phone, the cell phone is dead, or he's gotten rid of it. How's Jordan?"

"She's better. She did her exercises on her own yesterday for the first time. She's getting a little stir crazy staying in the house so long."

"She must be to let Lily teach her to knit...Jordan's not the domestic type."

Woody grinned. "Nope. She'll cook and clean, but anything beyond that is not her element."

"Morning, Woody," greeted Garrett, who was coming in to drop off some samples for Nigel to run DNA trace on.

"Hi, Dr. M. Jordan said you were going to have lunch with her today."

"Yeah. As a matter of fact, I was going to go pick her up now and see if she felt up to coming back here for the rest of the day and help me with some cold files...is she doing pretty good this morning?"

"Yeah...yeah she is. She'd probably welcome the chance to get out."

"Good. I'll give her a call and pick her up."

* * *

An hour later, Jordan found herself back at the morgue, in Garrett's office, pouring over case files with him. It felt good to be working at least on some level....good to be useful again. Her legs were not bothering her, but after several hours, she felt the need to stretch them after sitting for so long.

"Hey Gar, mind if I walk for a minute?"

"Do you feel like it?"

"I do, actually. Maybe all these treatments are finally kicking in now. I've felt pretty good for the last three days now. I think I'll try to walk over to Woody's office...surprise him."

"Let me walk with you..."

"No, that's okay. I think I can make it...besides, you're busy."

"I'll go with you," said a voice from the doorway.

Jordan looked up, surprised. Rene Walcott go with her? _Rene hates my guts_, she thought to herself.

Rene caught Jordan's expression of disbelief. "I'll be glad to walk with you, Jordan. It's really good to see you again...You're looking so much better." Rene hadn't seen Jordan since she had been in the hospital. She actually had thought about going to Jordan's house to visit her, but didn't know how the young ME would take it...there were still some hostilities between the two women... hostilities Rene hoped would die down. For as much as the two women disagreed, Rene realized that Jordan was a talented ME and was one she could depend on to help solve the most difficult of cases. "Just give me a minute to go over a few things with Garrett."

"Sure....I'll just wait outside."

A minute later, Rene emerged from Garrett's office. "Ready?"

Jordan nodded and the two women fell into step, with Rene carefully watching Jordan for any sign of her legs failing her or slowing down. "So how's therapy going?" she asked.

"Good." Jordan went on to tell her about how many times as week she was going and what she was doing. "But it may not do much good until this guy is caught...so Dr. Barker will know exactly how to treat me to speed up the healing process."

"I know. We're doing everything we can...It just seems as soon as he is spotted in one place, but the time we get there, he's moved on...and we can't determine where he'll be next. There's no pattern. He's just running, or so it seems. But he'll corner himself one day. And then we'll get him."

Jordan hoped it would be soon....and not too late for her. They had arrived at the police station and took the elevator up to his office. He wasn't there. "Hey," Rene called to one of the other detectives, "where's Hoyt?"

"Winslow's office. Conference call from Maine."

They walked the few short paces to Eddie's office. Neither Eddie or Woody looked up as the two women noiselessly came in. They were engrossed in the call.

"So he's what?" Jordan heard Eddie shout into the receiver. "Out of Maine? Well, where in the hell was he heading?"

Woody was on the other receiver. Jordan saw his face grow pale. "Shit!" he said into his receiver. "Why didn't someone alert us before now?" He sighed.

Jordan continued to hear Eddie rant into the other receiver about lack of communication, how unprofessional this was...her eyes continued to be on Woody. He was pinching the bridge of his nose...a sure sign he was upset. Suddenly he looked up and saw Jordan. If possible his face grew paler. He hung up his phone and let Eddie continued to rant and rage. Woody walked over to Jordan and Rene. Gently rubbing his hands down Jordan's arms, and looking at both women, he said, "He's not in Maine anymore...the state police there are sure he's gone. But he's been spotted."

"Where?" Rene asked.

"Back in Massachusetts."

"Call the patrol. Set up road blocks...all major roads in and out. Alert the airports. Send out APBs...do whatever we need to," Rene said to Eddie and Woody. Eddie nodded, getting back on the phone to authorities. Woody's concern was Jordan, who was looking at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"He's coming back...he's coming back to finish what he's started. He knows I didn't die," she began, clutching onto Woody. As much as they could, the police and hospital had worked to keep Jordan's attack out of the press. Still some of it had leaked out...enough for anyone to know she wasn't dead.

"Jordan, you'll be okay. One of us is going to be with you all the time. You'll be safe...you'll be safe." He pulled her to him and stroked her hair, trying to calm her down.

"Woody...I'm scared."

He could feel her shaking. Wordlessly, he looked over the top of Jordan's head at Rene. She nodded. "Take whatever time you need, Hoyt. Just keep her safe."

Woody gently led Jordan out of Eddie's office and back into his own. Sitting down with her on the couch, he held her until she stopped trembling. "Okay?" he asked. He knew she was trying to pull herself back together. Still holding her hands, he continued, "One of us will be with you all the time. But I'll be honest. I don't like you staying in the house by yourself unless you just don't feel like getting out. I'd rather you'd be here or at the morgue, where there's plenty of security and everyone is looking out for this guy. You could use the policemen's workout room for your therapy....what do you say? Want to come back here during the day and then I'll be with you at night?"

Jordan nodded. For the first time in her life, she didn't feel safe...even with Woody. This guy had taken away so much from her...her mobility, her job, her intimacy with Woody....and now it appeared he was serious about taking away her very life. He had to be stopped. "I'll do whatever you think I need to," she replied.


	7. One Shot

Woody felt as if not only his patience was being tried with this lab technician, but also his very soul, his inner most being. The road blocks and extra security at rest stops, bus terminals, and airports had done nothing to capture this guy, despite the fact that a police net had been spread across the entire city. It frustrated him to no end that this guy seemed not only unstoppable, but invisible as well. No more deaths by injections with the bacteria had been reported, so everyone was concerned that the perp was set on coming back to Boston and settling his final score with Jordan.

And Woody knew that Jordan realized that. She was a cop's daughter and had worked with police all of her professional life. She knew how things went. But her current physical condition made her even more vulnerable to a physical attack. Not to mention what this was doing to her emotionally.

She had never complained, not once...not once about the physical discomfort she endured or the mental torture this guy was putting her through. She never mentioned it. But every evening when Woody would come to the morgue to take her home, her eyes would wordlessly ask the question. Woody would have to look away from her and shake his head no. They hadn't caught him. They weren't even sure where he was at. He felt he was failing her in a way that he had no control over. Still, Jordan remained optimistic. "Maybe tomorrow," she always said.

However, the evenings always underscored the seriousness of the situation for Jordan. Woody had always been careful to lock his service revolver away at night...in the lockbox in the closet. It was his habit. He'd come home, take the suit off, throw the shirt in the laundry hamper, hang up the pants and coat, put the gun in the box....much the same way that her father had done when she was a child. Now, he placed the revolver by his side of the bed, on the night stand—within close reach if he should need it. This made Jordan nervous, but she understood.

The police were reasonably sure that the guy would eventually find his way back to Boston. Jordan was no longer at her apartment on Pearle Street. The question was would the technician be able to find out where she was now? And the answer to the question would only be a matter of time. The police staked out her apartment, watching it day and night, hoping the guy would show up there. The morgue was also under close surveillance, as well as the house. No luck. As the days turned into weeks, there was no sighting of him. Woody began to wonder if maybe the guy had made a run to Canada...to escape being caught and taken back to jail.

Jordan continued to go to the morgue during the day, alternately working a light case load, mainly in trace; or doing paperwork at her desk. She did her exercises in the police department's gym. On the days her legs were particularly bothersome, she would camp out in Garrett's office, lying on his couch and talking with him. To her complete surprise, Rene Walcott became her frequent visitor...worrying about her if she was in pain...fussing over her, even. "See, I told you she wasn't so bad," was Garrett's comment to Jordan's amazement. "She really isn't....she just has to be a hard ass sometimes to get the job done. You have to realize that."

But Jordan's world was not returning to normal. The lab technician continued to hold her present and future, hostage. She couldn't return to her apartment. She couldn't go any further than from her house to the morgue. And she still couldn't trust her legs. They weren't really getting any better, and in some ways, were getting worse. The pain was becoming excruciating at times, despite the pain medication she was on. In spite of Dr. Barker's reassurances that things were getting better, Jordan wondered if he was just trying to candy-coat a bad situation. After her last round of tests came back, she questioned her doctor closely.

"How does it look? Are the nerve sheathes reconstructing themselves?" she had inquired.

"Yes. A little at the time. Whatever he gave you is still having an adverse effect on your nervous system. The riacin was very strong....and it takes the sheathes longer to grow back in an adult. If we had the exact concentration he gave you, we would be able to counteract it better...faster...but until he's caught, we can just do all we can the best way we know how."

"What if they don't grow back?"

"Jordan, we'll cross that bridge when and if we get there. We're not there yet."

Jordan understood where the doctor was coming from, but it did nothing to ease her worry, or her pain. For the first time, she felt totally hopeless about her situation, but was careful to hide it from Woody. As they were getting in the bed that night, she rolled over and propped herself up on his chest, looking deep into his blue eyes.

"What?" he asked.

"I love you, Woody."

Looking slightly bemused, he replied, "I love you, too. What brought that up?"

"Can't I just tell you I love you?"

"Sure...but something's up. I can tell by your eyes. What gives?"

Jordan sighed. There was no use trying to keep the truth from him. "Dr. Barker said my nerve sheathes weren't growing back as quickly as he'd like...this whole process is taking too damn long."

This was the closest Woody had heard Jordan come to complaining during the entire ordeal. "Hey. It's just time...we've got plenty of it. Maybe we need to see a specialist..."

"Dr. Barker is a specialist."

"I mean another one..."

"I'll think about it." She laid her head down on his chest. "I miss you, Woody."

"I'm right here...."

She looked back up at him. "That's not what I mean and you know it." She felt his arms go around her. He was so patient...but for how long?

"Aw, honey, it won't be forever." He felt her tears against his chest and for the first time realized just how desperate Jordan was. "Please, Jo. Don't cry. It will all be all right. I promise. We'll catch him...and he'll tell us everything."

"I know. I'm sorry...it's just been six months...I'm ready to get my life back to normal."

"I understand." He lifted her chin to look in her eyes. "I'm ready to get you back to normal, too. We have six months to make up for." He wagged his eyebrows at her. "And don't think we won't make up for lost time...you won't see the outside world for a week...at least...I promise. I'm going to take you away somewhere to a hotel...far away from the morgue and police department...and for a week I'm going to have my wicked ways with you." He gave Jordan such a comical leer that she had to laugh.

"Promises, promises," she said, chuckling at him. Then turning serious on him, she continued, "I don't want to lose you."

"You're not. I love you."

"And I love you, too." She sighed and settled back down on his chest. Woody pulled the covers back up over both of them and held her snugly in his arms. Lose him? Where on earth would he go? He drifted off to sleep.

Some hours later, Jordan woke up to sharp pains in her legs. Biting her lip to keep from crying out, she carefully slid out of the bed and went to the bathroom to take some more pain medication. Suddenly, she heard a thump. Not a thump like Woody turning over in bed. A thump like someone coming in from downstairs. She froze. Then she heard it...someone on the stairs, stealthily climbing them, easing their way into their bedroom. She hardly dared to breathe, scared the intruder would hear it. She knew who it was...it was _him_. Quickly, she turned off the light in the bathroom and cracked the door just enough to see what was going on. He walked over to the bed where Woody was sound asleep. He bent over Woody's sleeping form.

"Woody!" Jordan shouted from the bathroom.

The technician went for Woody at the same time Woody lunged up off the bed for him. Through the darkness, Jordan couldn't see what was going on as the two wrestled on the floor. She edged out of the bathroom and around the sidled around the wall of the room to the nightstand to get to her cell phone...to hit the GPS and summon the police. Just as she reached for the phone, the technician swung hard at Woody. Jordan heard the distinctive sound of bone hitting bone and saw Woody go down. She saw the man reach in pocket and pull out a syringe.

Instead of reaching for her cell phone, Jordan reached for Woody's gun. One shot rang out. That was all it took.


	8. One day at a time

Woody woke to someone holding smelling salts underneath his nose. His head pounded. He opened his eyes and looked into the laughing face of Eddie Winslow. Gingerly he felt his jaw and ran his tongue over his teeth. They were all there. Eddie laughed harder.

"What happened? And why are you here?" he asked. The last thing he remembered was Jordan calling his name.

"Seems our guy decided to break in tonight. He cleaned your clock pretty good. He was getting ready to give you the same dose of stuff he gave Jordan, when your girl grabbed your service revolver and fired a shot at him."

"Scared him off?"

"Scared him off? Are you kidding? It damned killed him. One shot. Straight through the heart. In the dark. If Jordan ever gets tired of working at the morgue, she's coming to work for me. You owe her big time." Eddie helped Woody to his feet. "You okay now?"

Woody nodded, carefully. His head still hurt. Wincing, he looked around for Jordan. She was sitting on the stairs talking with the police. Nigel, Garrett, and Rene were with her. They eased of his way when they saw him coming. He dropped down beside her.

"Thanks," he said, taking her hand. "I didn't know you could shoot that well."

Jordan shook her head. "Neither did I. I guess there's a first time for everything."

"That's not the first time you've shot a gun."

"No, but that's the first time I've ever hit somebody."

"You okay?"

"I'm fine. I just freaked out when I saw him get that syringe out of his pocket."

"That's understandable," said Rene, patting Jordan's free arm. "You know, no charges will be filed. You were defending your home and plus he had a federal warrant out for his arrest."

Woody sighed in relief. It was over...except...for one thing. "If this guy's dead, how are we ever going to find out how much riacin he gave Jordan?"

Nigel held up a bag with a full syringe in it. "We got this from him intact. I'm going on the theory that he made one batch of this stuff, as riacin poison is difficult to make even if the beans are easy to come by. I'm going to take it to the lab, run some tests, and get my findings to Dr. Barker ASAP." He descended the stairs. "I'm off to the morgue. See you later."

Just as soon afterwards, after the police had finished, everyone went home. Garrett and Rene were the last to leave, making sure the young couple were okay. Jordan turned to Woody, "I really don't want to spend the night here..."

Woody nodded. "I agree...where do you want to go?"

"I have an apartment I would like to reclaim as my first step back to a normal life. Care to join me?"

"Let me get my coat."

* * *

The next afternoon, Jordan found herself back at the hospital with an IV hooked up to her arm. But this time, instead of being admitted for pain, she was being given the _correct_ antidote for her poison, which turned out not to be riacin at all. "Hopefully this will work," Dr. Barker had told her. "The sheathes are already growing back. This antidote should counteract any damage caused and get you on the road to recovery quickly."

Jordan looked up at the IV bag holding her future...one that she hoped would be bright and pain-free. She lay back down in her bed and smiled – for the first time in months, she relaxed.

Later that day, Woody came to take her home. "How do you feel?" he asked.

"Dr. Barker says I probably won't feel any difference for a few days...then it will kick in and I'll be all better."

"So in a few days...."

"I think I'd make the hotel reservations soon, if I were you, Farm Boy."

Woody grinned. "You don't know what you're asking..."

Jordan grinned back at him. "Oh, I think I do...but we're sadly out of practice."

"And practice makes perfect," he said, leaning close to her, his lips a fraction of an inch from hers.

"And our goal should be perfection," she replied, closing the distance.

"Every time," he whispered as he claimed her lips.

* * *

Two weeks later, they were at a secluded hotel on the coast of Florida. _Gee, when Woody said we were getting away from it all, he really meant it_, she thought, taking in the sites and smells of St. Augustine. She quickly grew to love the city, what little Woody was letting her see of it. True to his word, the first few days of their vacation, she hadn't seen much beyond the walls of their hotel room. Not that she was complaining....she wasn't complaining at all. He had made up for all that lost time in the most satisfying way. She smiled to herself at the memory.

"What are you smiling at?" he asked, his arm around her waist as they strolled through the old part of St. Augustine.

"How well you've kept your promise."

"Which one?" he asked stopping and turning her to face him.

"The one about making up for lost time."

"Oh. That one..." They continued walking. For the first time in months, Jordan's legs were pain free. She never wanted to quit walking...or so it seemed to Woody. She appreciated each step she could take without flinching. "Are you happy, Jordan?"

"Very. Very happy and very satisfied."

The sun was beginning to set behind the city, casting a rosy glow on the old buildings and walkways. He pulled her to him and held her close. "Me, too...but I have one question. What's next with us, Jo?"

Jordan looked into his blue eyes...When she had met him...at that bank robbery...what was it? Three years ago? His eyes had captured her attention then. Crystal blue...like the Caribbean. Now they held her soul. "I hope it's the next step," she said, slowly, holding her breath.

"Which is?" he asked.

"That we stay together....be with each other, for a long time."

"Are you asking me to marry you?" Woody teased.

"No...no...not now... at least I don't think either one of us is ready for that...but I know how I feel. I don't want to be with anyone but you. I can't even imagine it."

Woody leaned his forehead against hers. "I can't either....so we go back home and see what happens...a day at the time?"

"I'd like that very much..."

"Would you at least wear this, for me?" He pulled out a box. "Don't worry. It's not an engagement ring."

Jordan opened the box. Inside was a sapphire and diamond ring. The blue of the sapphire matched his eyes exactly. "Yes..." she whispered. He slid it on the ring finger of her left hand.

They resumed walking. "So let's say hypothetically, that I bought you an engagement ring at say...Christmas or Valentines...just hypothetically speaking, of course. Would you take it?"

"Hypothetically....I'd probably say yes....hypothetically speaking, of course. I'm not letting you get away, Detective Hoyt."

"Hmmmm. Know a good thing when you've got it, huh?"

"Look, any man who would take care of me for weeks on end, make sure I could get to the potty on time, helping me get dressed...making sure I had meals...I'd be crazy to let go. Besides," she said pulling him to her, "I love you Woody. I can't imagine my life without you."

He grinned and kissed her waiting lips. Despite everything, they were together...and he'd take one day at a time for the rest of their lives.


End file.
